Page 17 of Miss Understood

“Comes with the job title, I guess.” I swirl the caramel-colored liquid around in my glass and shrug.

“Then how come Brad’s nice?” she argues.

“Brad’s a dick, he just has people to do his dirty work for him now, so he seems nice. I mean, fuck, the guy doesn’t even have to show up anymore if he doesn’t want to,” I say, setting my drink down. “I’m still proving myself.”

It might be the alcohol, but I know I shouldn’t be saying half of what I just said, especially to Luce. The last thing I need her to do is report back to Brad, or, worse, view it as insecurity. I turn toward her, and there’s a curious expression on her face, but I hope she lets it go without digging too far into it.

“What about you?” I ask her, averting the conversation away from myself. “Why are you such a hard-ass?”

She rests her elbow on the table and leans her chin into her hand. Her eyes look around the room, and for a moment I wonder if she’s not going to answer the question, but when her stare darts back to me, it’s surprisingly relaxed.

“Ifyoushow weakness, people chalk it up to a fleeting moment or a bad day. IfIdo, I’m an emotional woman who can’t be trusted to handle the hard things. And that’s all our job is, hard things.” She presses her lips together, and her eyes move to Mateo and Nate on the dance floor.

“That blows.” It’s not the most eloquent way to put it, but it captures the truth of it pretty well.

“Sometimes.” She shrugs a shoulder. “But I got lots of practice growing up surrounded by men. Three brothers and a Marine Corp dad.” She salutes, making herself laugh, and I can’t help but smile at how genuine it is.

This might be the first time I’ve seen Luce giggle. She’s definitely a little drunk, and it’s not even dinner time yet.

“What about your mom?” I ask her.

Her lips form a hard line, and her body goes tense. I immediately wish I could take the words back.

“She died when I was seven. Cancer.” Luce’s palms press against the table like she’s physically collecting herself so I don’t spot a crack in her armor. With a deep breath, she turns back to me, her face placid. “I was raised shooting guns, fishing, and hiding the fact that I was the only one in the house who needed tampons and training bras. To go from that to law school and have to prove myself over and over again to rooms full of men who assumed I was too soft to handle it. Guess this is what you get.”

Luce waves her hands up and down herself, and I understand her a little more in this moment.

“That’s terrifying,” I say, and her eyebrows scrunch. “Not your story, I mean. The idea of you with a gun. And here I thought you were scary in the courtroom with just a pair of heels.”

“Now you know not to piss me off, Mr. Davis.” She grins and shifts in her seat to nudge at my arm. The contact and her calling me by that name mix together in some way I can’t quite put words to.

Her eyes dart to the dance floor again, where Mateo is spinning circles around Nate.

“Did you want to dance?” I ask her.

Luce looks at me with a cautious expression, no doubt unsure what to make of my question. I’m honestly not sure why I asked. But watching her watching them, the words spilled out.

Finally, she shrugs. “I guess so.”

Luce snags two more shots off a waitress’s tray as she passes. She hands one to me as she downs the other.

“Gross, bleh,” she says, sticking out her tongue in disgust before standing up. She almost takes a dive in her heels, and I have to catch her.

I barely have time to steady her before she’s dragging me across the bar and toward the stage. The second we hit the middle of the dance floor, I realize this is a terrible idea. Between the music, my heartbeat, and Luce pressing her body against mine, I can’t think straight. Maybe it’s the shots getting to my head, but everything except the vision in front of me fades away.

Luce’s soft curves ride against my body to the beat of the music. I don’t even try to hide my hard-as-steel dick as her ass swivels and grinds against it.

We are no doubt crossing the line of professionalism, but I can’t care enough to stop myself right now as she slides down my body and then back up again. When she spins to face me, I wrap my hands around her petite waist and pull her closer. Her lips part with a heavy exhale as her eyes lock onto mine. The hard peaks of her nipples are grazing me through the thin fabric of her shirt, and a bead of sweat trails down her neck. It takes every ounce of my control to not reach in and taste her sweetness.

I don’t know who this woman in my arms is, but it isn’t the same one I’ve been fighting with for the past two years.

“You’re thinking too much.” Luce smiles.

“Or not enough,” I argue, pressing my hips against her and watching her eyelashes flutter as she feels the full length of my dick against her stomach.

The alcohol has cracked us both open, and whatever is underneath feels a lot like quicksand. One wrong step, and I’m not sure I’ll make it out.

Mateo and Nate slide up on our left, and Luce takes a step back, leaving an appropriate gap between us. It feels like a fucking mile.

---